


A Legacy to Protect

by Sohotthateveryonedied



Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Accidents, Angst, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Child Neglect, Crying, Dick Grayson is Robin, Gen, Good Bro Dick Grayson, He's Baby, Hurt Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Tim's a little kid in this okay, Whumptober 2020, not much but y'know, prompt: Falling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26796478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sohotthateveryonedied/pseuds/Sohotthateveryonedied
Summary: Tim’s parents don’t know he does this. Neither do the nannies. If anyone found out that their nine-year-old boy was out roaming the streets every night after bedtime, climbing fire escapes and leaning over roof ledges to get photos of Batman and Robin, they would have an aneurysm.(Tim learned that word last week from a medical documentary.)
Relationships: Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Series: Whumptober 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948297
Comments: 14
Kudos: 557





	A Legacy to Protect

**Author's Note:**

> Whump Day 3 Alternative Prompt: "Falling"
> 
> (Title is from "Wait For It" from Hamilton!)

Tim’s parents don’t know he does this. Neither do the nannies. If anyone found out that their nine-year-old boy was out roaming the streets every night after bedtime, climbing fire escapes and leaning over roof ledges to get photos of Batman and Robin, they would have an aneurysm.   
  
(Tim learned that word last week from a medical documentary.)   
  
The dynamic duo hasn’t been spotted yet tonight, but there’s still time. They usually do a sweep through Crime Alley between 12:30 and 1:15, according to Tim’s notes. He keeps a notebook small enough to fit in his jacket pocket, the pages scribbled margin to margin with red crayon in honor of the Boy Wonder himself.   
  
Tim sits on the roof’s edge, his camera settled beside him. It’s a shiny black one with a strap to hang around his neck and everything, just like a real photographer. Mom and Dad sent it over for Tim’s last birthday while they were touring through Egypt, and it was only a week and a half late this time. Tim doesn’t blame them. His parents work hard, harder than half of the other rich socialites who attend those fancy dinners and balls Tim gets dragged to.   
  
_We need to present a good image for Gotham,_ his mom always tells him. _If you’re not the best you can be, then there isn’t much of a point in doing anything, is there?_ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m really good at pictures,_ Tim offers.   
  
_I don’t mean hobbies, sweetheart. Those don’t count. If you want to get anywhere in this world, you need to start focusing on what’s important. Like Drake Industries._   
  
Tim slips his notebook out of his pocket and opens it to a fresh page. _Octobur 3, 12:16 a.m. — no sign of batman and robin yet. very cold weather. saw a cat sitting on the sidewalk and tried to pet it but it ran away._   
  
Tim is going to be a great detective one day. He’s already got the surveillance part down.   
  
Suddenly the air rings with the crashing sound of trash cans being overturned. Tim quickly pockets his notebook and grabs his camera. He leans over the side of the building, ready to shoot. He scans the dark alley for a criminal, a really quiet angry mob, maybe even the Joker himself hatching a scheme.   
  
Instead, all Tim’s lens catches is a stray dog eating scraps from a dumpster. Tim sighs but snaps a photo anyway. Bummer.   
  
He leaves the dog to its meal, standing and turning his camera’s gaze to the night sky above. The moon is full, even if the stars are obscured by Gotham’s constant veil of smog. He takes a few pictures, rotating to catch new angles over cracked walls and smoky rooftops.   
  
He’s in the middle of snapping a photo of a neon sign for something called the “Booby Trap” when he spots a blur of yellow cape obscure half of the frame. A jolt rolls through Tim and he grins. _Finally._ He lowers the camera, scanning the area for where the cape went until he finds him.   
  
Robin—Dick Grayson—is swinging below, his bright costume stark against the black Gotham streets. He’s laughing about something, chattering to a figure Tim can’t see. But he knows he’s there, keeping to the shadows.   
  
_Batman._   
  
He can’t lose them. Not before he gets some more shots for his hero album. Tim takes as many as he can, following the Boy Wonder with his camera as he flies down the street. It’s like watching the sun rise. He’s graceful, all joyful bounds and tumbles, fluid with every movement. A true Grayson in flight.   
  
Tim takes a step backward to keep him in frame, but he’s closer to the edge of the building than he thought he was. With a yelp, Tim’s foot slips off the edge and then he’s lost to gravity altogether. He drops his camera, arms cartwheeling as he falls with a shout.   
  
It’s never occurred to Tim until now just how tall two-story buildings really are. It feels like he falls forever, trapped in a bubble of timelessness. Weightlessness.   
  
Until he lands.   
  
Tim’s leg crashes into the concrete first, buckling on impact with a sickening crack that vibrates through his entire skeletal system. Tim gets out the beginning of a scream, but it’s less than a second later that he lands on his back, the wind getting knocked from his lungs.   
  
Panic surges through Tim’s body, ice water injected straight into his veins. He just fell off a building. Tim fell off a building and he definitely heard a snap, even if he can’t feel it yet because of the adrenaline which is another thing that medical documentary said, and he’s too far away to get home and he can’t walk and he doesn’t have a cell phone and he’s all alone in Crime Alley and—   
  
Tim gasps. There’s the pain, right on schedule. He whimpers as a throbbing sensation radiates through his leg, amping up in intensity with every beat of his heart. He doesn’t want to look at it, knowing full well that it’s broken. There’s no way it _isn’t_ broken from a fall like that, and his elbow stings so he must have scraped it on his way down. He’s pretty sure he hit his head, too.   
  
_This is so freaking bad._   
  
Taking deep breaths, Tim sits up despite the aches rattling his body. He bites his lip, smothering a whimper when he sees his foot facing a direction that it _definitely_ shouldn’t be facing. It’s broken. It’s so, _so_ broken.   
  
Maybe he can set it? Tim read about that once, about how setting broken bones makes them better. If he can figure out how to do it on his own, maybe it’ll be okay. No one needs to find out what happened tonight. As a test, Tim tries to move his leg just an inch.   
  
_Agony_ surges through his leg instantly and Tim bursts into tears on the spot. It _hurts._ Everything hurts so badly and he knows that big boys aren’t supposed to cry—that’s what his dad tells him. _Only wimps cry. You’re not a wimp, are you?_ But Tim’s leg hurts and he’s scared and he doesn’t know what to do, so he bites down on his sleeve and tries to muffle the sobs that burst through.   
  
He just wanted to take pictures. That’s it. He wasn’t even doing anything dangerous—he wasn’t fighting bad guys or breaking up scuffles on the street. He only wanted to see his heroes.   
  
“Hey, kid? You okay?”   
  
Tim flinches, snapping his head up and frantically wiping his tears. The image standing over him takes his breath away.   
  
It’s _him._ Robin. Dick came to save him. Tim can’t see behind the mask, but his face is twisted with concern as he eyes Tim’s predicament. “Yikes. That doesn’t look good.”   
  
For some reason that only makes the crying start anew, Tim biting down on his lip in an effort to keep the hitching breaths to a minimum. It must not work because then Robin is kneeling in front of him, his hands warm on Tim’s shoulders. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’ll get you home to your parents, yeah?”   
  
Tim sniffles. “They’re not—they’re out of the country. The nanny comes in the morning.” He screwed up. He screwed up so bad.   
  
Dick’s brows furrow beneath the mask. “There’s no one watching you?”   
  
“I’m responsible.” In spite of the salty tears coursing their way down his cheeks, Tim lifts his chin in an effort to look tough. He can take care of himself, he’s been doing it for years.   
  
Dick— _Robin, this is Robin—_ reaches up and touches what must be a communication device in his ear, like they have in spy movies. “B, I’ve got a kid here. He fell off a building and got pretty banged up.” A pause. “He said they’re out of town. Should I take him to Thompkins? Yeah, I can carry him there. Just two blocks, right?” Another pause, this one longer. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be careful. No one’s going to mess with me when I’m lugging around a crippled kid.” He laughs, winking at Tim. “See you back home.”   
  
Then he’s facing Tim again. “You got a name, kiddo?”   
  
“Tim.”   
  
“Nice to meet you, Tim. I’m Robin, your hero for the night. Do you have any other injuries I should know about?”   
  
“Um.” Tim thinks it over for a moment. “I think I hit my head. And my elbow hurts.” As if Robin can’t perfectly see the bloody scrape there for himself, staining Tim’s sleeve red. His parents are going to be _so_ mad when they find out that he ruined his nice jacket.   
  
Robin prods the back of Tim’s head carefully, checking for damage. “What were you doing out so late?”   
  
“I...like to take pictures. Stuff like the sky and the street and—” Crud. He _completely_ forgot about the camera. Tim twists, scanning the alleyway until his eyes land on a bulky black shape a good ten feet away. “Oh, no.”   
  
Robin follows his line of sight and retrieves the camera, turning it in his hands before handing it over to Tim. “I take it this is yours?”   
  
There’s a huge crack right through the middle of the front lens. Tim’s heart sinks. “My parents are going to _kill_ me when they see this.”   
  
“Don’t worry, Tim. When your parents see the leg cast and bruises they won’t care about a dumb camera, they’ll be too busy worrying about you.” He clearly hasn’t met Tim’s parents, then. Now that he thinks about it, though, Tim might be in the clear after all. It’s not like Mom and Dad notice much of anything Tim does even when they’re home. He wouldn’t be surprised if they miss the cast and broken camera altogether.   
  
“I’m gonna carry you to the clinic, all right? It’s not very far, and I’m friends with the doctor there. She’s super nice, and best of all, she doesn’t snitch.” He stoops down, getting ready to lift Tim into his arms. “This might hurt.”   
  
Tim’s eyes widen. “Wait, wait, stop.”   
  
Dick’s hands are off him in an instant. “What’s wrong?”   
  
“Your—your uniform. I’m going to get blood on it.” There’s already a red smear on his glove from where he touched the back of Tim’s head.   
  
“You just fell off a building and you’re worried about my _uniform?”_   
  
“It looks expensive.”   
  
Robin laughs. “You don’t need to worry about that, trust me. A few blood stains never hurt anyone. Can I pick you up now?”   
  
Tim nods, and then he’s being lifted swiftly in the air, one arm beneath his knees and the other wrapping around his shoulders. Robin was right: it does hurt. Tim lets out a squeak as his broken leg is jostled, sending waves of pain blazing through his nerves. He clutches the camera until its hard edges dig into his palms, just to give himself something to focus on so he doesn’t cry again.   
  
“Sorry, sorry,” Robin murmurs as he settles Tim against his chest. “I know it hurts. Don’t worry, Dr. Thompkins will give you some painkillers when we get to the clinic.”   
  
Tim doesn’t respond. He’s almost positive that if he opens his mouth now, nothing is going to keep the sobs at bay. He already cried in front of his hero once tonight; he can’t let it happen a second time.   
  
As if sensing Tim’s inner turmoil, Robin says as he walks, “It’s okay to cry, you know. I cry all the time. It doesn’t make you any less brave.”   
  
That’s the final crack in the dam. Tim lowers his head so his face is turned into Robin’s tunic and lets the tears fall.   
  
“It’s okay, Timmy. I’ve got you.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to mosey on down to my Tumblr!](http://sohotthateveryonedied.tumblr.com/)


End file.
